


In Which Levallan Keeps Falling for Solas

by UsakoAuditore



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Ficlets [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M, Solas as the school doctor, UST, its mostly a teaser, sort of, the highschool au nobody asked for, tumblr prompted, wouldnt solas look hot with a lab coat? the answer is always yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsakoAuditore/pseuds/UsakoAuditore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally. </p><p>Eirlys Lavellan has just been promoted to the head of the music department at Haven Academy for the Academically gifted when her accident-prone nature becomes apparent. Her frequent injury leads her to take up residency in the school's nurses office: only, the nurse is a man, and his jawbone is unfairly perfect. </p><p>Prompted from : “i always see you in the nurses office and you’re always hurt somehow what gives man” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Levallan Keeps Falling for Solas

**Author's Note:**

> Eirlys is "snowdrop" in welsh, and is prounounced "aere-LIS" (like fleur de lis)

**“i always see you in the nurses office and you’re always hurt somehow what gives man” au**

Eirlys Lavellan was not the most typical of people.

It wasn’t because she was a mage (not that the school-board knew), nor was it because of her oddly-colored hair. It wasn’t even her pointed ears.

No, her life couldn’t be that simple. Eirlys Lavellan was unique mostly due to gravity—or rather, her constant battles with it. That is to say…

She walked around like there were fucking marbles all over the floor. Her fellow professor, Mr. Tethras, often joked that she was “allergic to gravity”. Dr. Pavus argued that physics simply bent around her. Coach Bull postulated that her ankles were constantly rolling. Eirlys didn’t think she got hurt _that_ often—of course her opinion would be overlooked every time officer Pentaghast was forced to carry her to the nurses office to be treated. Eirlys was really ok, she would insist, but when Cassandra would relent and set her down, it was almost as if the world tilted and she somehow ended up flat on her ass. Again.

She had started teaching at Haven Academy for the Academically Gifted two months ago. It was known for the prestigious alumni, pristine facilities, and the incredibly talented staff. Eirlys could have sworn that even the void-damned janitors had PhDs. Which was why _she_ getting hired was such a surprise. Sure, there was an open position (the previous music teacher, Justinia Divine, had passed away), and _of course_ , Eirlys had once been a somewhat well-known opera singer (because _what else_ could a clumsy girl like her be good at), but really, none of that warranted the school specifically asking for her to teach. She had never taught before—in fact, Eirlys truly disliked children—but the amount of zeroes in her offered paycheck made the decision for her. She was getting paid more to scream at a bunch of teenagers to _try that in a baritone, now alto, now soprano—_ and sit at a piano all day than to take her scheduled tour of Orlais, so Haven won over Halamshiral. Sure, she had to organize concerts, but the children attending Haven Academy were filthy rich and honestly, their parents could care less if they could carry a tune. As long as they saw their precious little nug-lets dressed in formal-wear on a stage, they were more than happy.

Eirlys would care if she wasn’t being paid so well. But she _was_ , so _whatever._ Upon her arrival at the academy, the staff had taken her under their proverbial wing: Vivenne De Fer taught mathematics (“it’s simple _logic_ , darling!”), Varric Tethras handled creative writing (“can I call you songbird?”), Dorian Pavus manned the physics department (he had gaped at her sweater before touching her arm and muttering about “sweet, poor, misguided things”), and Thom Blackwall offered woodshop. The sports were directed by Cullen Rutherford and a man simply called The Iron Bull, the principle was Josephine Montilyet with Leliana Nightingale as her second, and the head of security was Cassandra Pentaghast. All in all, a wonderful staff, welcoming and open. That is, until she “met” the school nurse. Not that they had even spoken.

He really wasn’t a nurse at all, void damn him. No, he was a _doctor_ , and insisted on being addressed as so. And damn if it wasn’t the sexiest thing Eirlys had _ever_ experienced. Because it was.

Solas Fen. The stupidest fucking name one could even possess, in her opinion. _Pride Wolf_. Literally. Just… what had his parents been thinking? They all called him _Doctor Fen_. It was like a terrible paperback novel. “Doctor Wolf! Come save me! Oh, but _please_ don’t eat me up!” Wink wink. Ugh. His appearance didn’t help, either.

Doctor Fen was possibly one of the most beautiful men in all of existence. No, _really_ , Eirlys would fight someone on the subject. Not even a casual argument, more of a “meet me in the fucking pit and say that again” type feeling. He was tall, broader than most elves, men, _whatever_ , with a jawline so sharp she bet he could cut the cloth of the sky if he so desired. His eyes were the color of the sea during a storm, and his _lips_ … Well. Dorian had to _literally_ put a hand over her mouth to stop her from waxing poetic about his perfect cupid’s bow.

So yes, she may have a thing for the doctor. But partnering in the workplace was generally frowned upon, so Eirlys kept her distance. She ignored Dorian’s urgings to just “fuck him out of your system” and pretended the entire school didn’t know he and Bull were hooking up. _Nobody here is together_ she thought dutifully while scrambling away from the scene of Josephine and Blackwall kissing in the main office. _Relationships do not belong in the workplace_ , she chanted to herself as Dorian and Bull nuzzled during a staff meeting. _This is a purely professional environment_ she thought while glaring at the floor as Varric proposed to their head of security.

Dorian would laugh when she refused to flirt and asked if she’d ever even _spoken_ to him.

“Of course I haven’t, Dorian!” She snapped back, leveling him with a heated glare. “I’m sure he talks like a fucking god and I really _don’t think I can handle that_ , you _know?_ ” Dorian had given her a considering look, smiled, and—

Actually, maybe Dorian is what started her steady downward spiral to getting injured practically every day. Because in that gods-damned moment, he had lovingly shoved her.

Right down a set of stairs.

Of course, he hadn’t realized they were walking past a stairwell, or so he would testify in the future. Eirlys stared up at him from the bottom, shock prevalent on her face. Dorian stared down at her, horrified. Her legs were twisted about (and really, maybe wearing heels to a teaching job wasn’t the smartest of ideas), ass in the air, and she was dizzy as all hell. As Eirlys moved to sit on her rump, pain sang throughout her body. She supposed it was lucky the school day was over, because moving was less than pleasant. She barely registered Dorian at her side, frantically hovering hands over her body before his words registered.

“Eirlys! Stop _crying_ , sweetling, no, no, I’m so _sorry_ , _kaffas_ ,” She hadn’t noticed the tears on her cheeks until her hand went up to brush them away. Her head was a bit muddied, so she managed to mumble an apology. This really only served to upset her friend _more,_ because in the next moment he had swept her up into his arms and started on his way to a different location. She didn’t have the heart (or, really, presence of mind) to stop him.

It was in moments like these that she was reminded of how _big_ humans were, because Dorian was carrying her like she weighed nothing, and he was _trotting_ without even jostling her. It was a pretty impressive feat, all things considered. Eirlys only realized his intentions once they passed through a large sign marked “SCHOOL DOCTOR” and groaned slightly.

She was placed on a cot facing the wall, and she didn’t really feel like moving much, fearing the pain she knew that would come with it.

“Creators—what’s happened _here?”_   and oh _thank the creators_. The voice. The voice that asked was _annoying_. High and nasally, slightly accented with a marcher’s lilt. At least she could end her fantasies of the doctor, because really, he sounded like a _boy_ , and she taught _high schoolers_ and would _never_ sleep with a man she associated that voice with. Perhaps this was a good thing, after all. Never mind the (probably several) broken ribs, because now she could keep teaching in peace without worrying about canoodling. Good. A low murmer broke her train of thought as a warm, _large_ hand pressed against her forehead and a voice, _different_ , spoke.

“Feynriel, go grab the bandages. Don’t mill about like a student.” And oh noooooo…..

Oh no no no.

No, this was the voice of angels and dark chocolate and sex and warm fires and _sex_ and—shit.

This person was giving orders.

Which meant—no.

 _Please_ no.

Eirlys cracked her eyes open, ignoring the light irritation of the bright lights, and was greeted by the prettiest sight her mind could imagine. Doctor Fen was hovering above her, concern marring his perfect expression. She absently wondered if she could help by smoothing his wrinkled brow, and reached up to brush her hand against it. His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch before he let out a soft chuckle.

“Still with us then, Miss Lavellan?”

 _No_ , she was _very much not with him_ , because the moment he _smiled_ she could hear fucking angels _singing the aria of the gods_ and truly that meant she had died and reached uthenera. How could a man be so _impossibly beautiful_? He laughed again, ears slightly flushed, and _fuck_ had she said that out _loud?_

The other man, the one with the annoying voice, Feynriel? Had rejoined them and was looking distinctly uncomfortable while Dorian sat next to her with his head in his hands. Doctor Fen stood then, still smiling, and took the bandages before sitting next to Eirlys and propping her against the wall with some pillows.

“I’ve heard what happened,” he said softly while sending Dorian a distinctly _not_ soft look, “and I may have to bandage you up a bit. Is it alright if I unbutton your blouse?” she stared at him dazedly, because _yes_ he could unbutton her blouse and take her right there if he just kept talking to her with that _voice_ , before managing a nod of assent. He smiled kindly, probably thinking her concussed or something worse given her less-than-verbal responses, before carefully sliding her silken shirt open. Eirlys was exceedingly glad she had chosen to wear her pretty pink lace today rather than her plain beige breastband. She was well endowed for an elf, and she liked to imagine Doctor Fen’s eyes darkening a bit at the sight of her. It was imagination, of course, but who could blame her? The object of her desire was _effectively undressing her_ , and really, it was a pretty damn nice situation. She wondered if she should actually _thank_ Dorian for pushing her. His hands danced across her ribs, drawing a slight wince. Doctor Fen sighed.

“We should wrap them, but I think the worst damage is a cracked rib.” With this, he began to wind bandages around her chest, murmuring soothing sounds whenever she flinched. When he finished, Doctor Fen buttoned her shirt back up and told Dorian to take her home and see her to bed, then smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled.

“I hope the next time we meet will be less dire, then, Miss Lavellan.”

She did too.

**

It really spiraled down from there.

First it was bumping into things—a desk, a music stand, a _student_ , those warranted some bruises, nothing to report about. Then she started _falling_ (“You falling for me there, teach?” Sera, a student, had asked with a laugh), tripping over shoes and people and _air_ , skinning her knee in front of Bull and teaching the rest of the day with a slightly bloodied leg (she would _not_ suffer the indignity of Doctor Fen’s raised eyebrows) before bandaging herself back at home, and then, lastly, she started to slip. It was during her Honors Senior Chorus class that she stepped on a stray sheet of music, let out a horrified _squeak_ was she fell, and landed on her ankle with a resounding _crack_. The room went deathly quiet.

Sera ran out to call Cassandra as Cole tried to comfort her, murmuring something about drowning people that somehow _helped,_ and the police officer had entered the room with an exasperated huff. Sera scurried after her, giggling, but both women’s expressions changed while looking at Eirlys’s face.

“Oh, dear,” Cassandra said, examining her with dawning apprehension. Sera started talking about her being _ashen,_ and _whiter than a sheet_ , and Eirlys really didn’t need to be hearing all of that. Her ankle didn’t really _hurt_ per say, more like… well. She was probably in shock, because the area was pretty numb. Cassandra moved to pick her up and she let out a high pitched “ _hmmmmmm_ ”, finally feeling some of the pain. Cassandra was less successful than Dorian in not jostling her, and by the time they made it to the nurses office, Eirlys was _very_ pale and had broken out in a cold sweat.

Doctor Fen’s assistant, Feynriel, looked up as they entered, noted the wrong angle of her ankle, and fetched his boss immediately. Eirlys was once more placed on her cot, and waited for the doctor with Cassandra by her side.

Before Doctor Fen could say anything, Eirlys said quietly, “it was me, this time.”

His shoulders released a bit of tension and he huffed out a sigh. “We’ll have to cut your tights off, you realize.” She nodded mournfully, these tights had been her favorite, and he fetched a pair of scissors. The slight numbing magic he performed helped little with the pain as her leg was handled, and the hands on her leg tightened slightly when the sock was removed up to the knee.

“Who did this?” the doctor asked, staring at her leg in horror. He was no doubt reacting to the myriad of bruises there, put in place by ill fate and an allergy to gravity. “Me,” Eirlys said with a self-deprecating shrug, noticing the way the doctors eyes lingered on hers. “Truly—I’m quite clumsy.” His eyes hardened— _that’s sexy_ , her mind supplied unhelpfully—and he squeezed her leg slightly. She flinched. “Next time you are injured, please _do_ come to me. It is my _job_ , after all.” His voice was irritated. She could only nod.

**

Eirlys was in a cast throughout the winter, returning from Satinalia break completely healed and ready to face the new semester.

On the first day, she stubbed her toe. She visited Doctor Fen. He was incredulous at the speed of her injury, but healed her all the same, exasperation fading into something like fondness.

In Wintermarch, she dislocated her shoulder playing with Bull’s team as a substitute. Doctor Fen told her to call him Solas.

She fell down _another_ stairwell around Wintersend, and Solas told her she didn’t _have_ to get hurt to visit. She laughed and told him to shut up and heal her, please. He didn’t notice the flush at her ears.

In Drakonis Eirlys gathered her courage. Dorian had suggested she “fuck him out of her system”, right? She could do that. Maybe she would finally stop getting hurt. It was with a determined stride that she made her way to his office after school on a cool say. Spring was still waking up, and students were eager to spend their time _away_ from school and in the sunlight. This suited Eirlys fine, because it meant they would leave the school quickly, giving her much less risk of interruption. She brushed into the infirmary, graceful for once, and told Feynriel to leave.

“I- but,” he protested. She silenced him with a stony stare.

“I’ll inform him of your leaving, if you please.” She said and pointed to the door. He huffed indignantly and walked out, muttering something about uppity women and their airs. She grinned. Her heart was beating out an unsteady rhythm as she walked closer to his office. The door was closed, as was usual after school hours, and Eirlys didn’t bother knocking. She slipped into the room.

He didn’t notice her. That was perfect, she thought, because with his back to her she could surprise him. She reached to her blouse and undid several buttons, showing a tantalizing amount of cleavage. After ruffling her hair, she cleared her throat.

Solas spun in his chair, obviously not expecting company, his mouth was open to say something, but the words seemed to die in his throat. She smiled at him, hoping she looked seductive. He licked his lips.

“Eirlys. Are you injured?” she took in a deep breath, not noticing how his eyes tracked the heave of her chest.

“No…” she replied, stepping towards him. He leaned back in his chair, surveying her carefully now. It was now or never, she thought, and she strode forward and straddled him. Her spread legs forced her skirt to ride up to her upper thighs, giving him a tantalizing view of her legs. Her chest was dangerously close to his mouth, and he inhaled sharply. She ground herself downwards, and Solas desperately grasped at her hips. Eirlys leaned down until her mouth was next to his ear before whispering.

“I have wanted you since the moment I saw your face—would you oblige me?” She punctuated her words with a slow grind of her hips and a nip to his ear, and he let out a heavy breath. His hands want to her shoulders and _shoved_ her away from him while keeping her on his lap. She looked down at him in shock, the idea that the feeling wasn’t mutual finally dawning on her, and _shit_ , but before she could move off of him, he dragged his hands down over her shoulders, over her breasts, down her stomach, and to the tips of her thighs. There he settled them, grasping on to her and _thrusting_ upwards. Eirlys let out a strangled moan. The kind doctor’s face twisted into a smirk as he thrust up _again_ , making her heart stutter. He pushed his mouth to the base of her neck, punctuating each word with a nip.

“I have wanted you here,” a nip, “on my desk,” a suck, “in my _bed_ , Eirlys,” his tongue laved over the fresh lovebite, “for _months_.” His hips thrust upwards again and she _mewled_ , grinding down to meet him. “You kept coming in _hurt_ , and I wanted nothing more than to _fuck you_ until you could not _walk_ and hurt yourself _again_.” His voice was lower than she’d ever heard it, and it was going straight to her core. She only managed a garbled moan in response. He spun them in his chair then, picking her up and placing her on his desk. His papers scattered, and Eirlys thought for a moment that they were probably _important_ , but then his lips were on hers and nothing really seemed to matter.

Kissing Solas was like breathing. His lips were both soft and demanding, asking nothing and _everything_ from her, and she gave him all she could, opening her mouth when his tongue flicked over her lower lip, letting him map the inside of her mouth, breaking from him with a stifled sob. He heard this and drew back, pupils blown wide.

“Oh, _yes_ , I will have you crying,” he promised, fingers slipping deftly under her skirt and pulling her panties down her legs, “I will have you _sing_ for me, ma’lath.” She was too far gone to linger on the endearment, too eager for his touch. She stared down at him from the desk, watching as he pulled her legs farther apart, letting out a shuddering breath as he rested his forehead on her thigh.

“Oh yes,” he hummed, gazing intently between her legs, “you will be begging for me when I am done.”

**

They fucked on almost every available surface.

His desk was in disarray. She discovered his chair squeaked under duress. The door was loud when slammed shut.

Eirlys didn’t really peg Solas as the rough type, but his refractory period was astounding and the _things_ he could do with his mouth…

She wondered if she could walk after their… activities. They were catching their breath on (her) little cot when he nuzzled his head into her neck and kissed her affectionately.

 _Fuck_. She thought. Because if he’s kissing her that tenderly, she _knows_ she’ll ask him to dinner. Then to marry her. Possibly not in that order.

Eirlys was not _good_ with feelings. She wondered if Dorian’s tactic could ever have worked, when she felt this strongly about Solas in the first place. He was annoyingly perfect, and now of course whenever she saw him she knew the first thought would be of his mouth and what he had been doing tenminutes ago with it and…

“Will you come to dinner with me?” she blurted out, running her fingers over his bare shoulder. She felt the curve of his smile on her skin as he huffed out a laugh.

“Have we not eaten out enough?” and _really?_ A fucking _pun?_ Eirlys would be amused if his words didn’t send an entirely inappropriate rush of warmth through her body. She shifted beneath him, still waiting for an answer.  His hands traced down her body to grasp at her waist and squeeze her teasingly. Her head fell back onto the pillow with a small giggle.

“I would _love_ to take you to dinner,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, “provided I can see your home post meal.” Even his way of _propositioning her_ was attractive. She smiled down at him, resting a hand on his cheek.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

**

Dinner was stupidly wonderful, and he kissed her on her doorstep. Of course, when they walked inside he made no effort to be subtle before offering to fuck her into her mattress. How could she possibly refuse?

He had stayed over, and she was immensely glad it was a weekend.

It became a sort of _routine_ , really. She would come to the nurses office after school, or during her break, and they would kiss until Feynriel coughed in discomfort, and he would take her out, or she him, or one of them would _cook_ , and it was wonderfully domestic. They had sex, _of course_ , because there was no way Eirlys would let him get out of her arms without squeezing his perfect ass, and that led to retaliation, and well…

Dorian knew immediately. He said she looked _different_ , then he sought out Solas, then, of course, the entire school knew. Eirlys found she didn’t actually care. The sex was phenomenal, the conversation was thrilling, and damn her if she wasn’t irrevocably in love with the man. And they weren’t even _dating_.

On this point, Cassandra disagreed.

“Eirlys. You _have_ to be dating—you can _not_ be doing this with no context!” the Nevarran woman argued over lunch. Eirlys merely smiled dreamily at her. “We can, and we _are._ If he doesn’t _want_ a label, then we _won’t_ have one!” Solas, however, seemed to have a different view of the situation. They were sitting on her couch, clothing rumpled, watching a new episode of _something_ on TV (honestly, Eirlys just watched Solas, because he was by _far_ more entertaining) when he turned to her.

“Will you move in with me?” he asked, quick and to the point. She looked up from his jaw to meet his eyes, because, _what_.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“You, move in, with me.” He said slowly, as if she didn’t understand. Which, to be fair, she didn’t.

“You want to _live_ with me?” she asked, incredulous. He smiled, as if he wasn’t asking her a monumental question that most definitely constituted a _label for their relationship_.

“That was implied, yes.”

She flushed crimson, incredulous at this development. “Solas, we aren’t even _dating—”_ it was his turn to look incredulous, and he reached forward to brush a stray hair from her cheek.

“Eirlys, we are _absolutely_ dating.” And well, she couldn’t argue with that, she supposed. A small smile broke out on her face, and the one she received in return was unfairly brilliant. He obviously took it was a yes and swept down to kiss her again. She was reminded, jarringly, of how much she loved this man. When he drew away she dazedly put a hand on his cheek and murmured “ar lath ma, vhenan.” His shock melted into pure adoration as he swept in for another kiss.

She had found her heart, her idiotically adorable, stupidly attractive, insanely loving heart, and damn if she would ever let him go.

She absentmindedly thought, _I’m going to be Mrs. fucking wolf_ , before drawing Solas back to her mouth.

She supposed it was acceptable, given the circumstances.

They lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts, questions, or feedback on my tumblr! Iinquisitorlavellan.tumblr.com


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